Page 48 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

Audra

The cabin door opened, and Beckett filled the frame, late-afternoon sun backlighting him in gold. Seventy-two hours had passed since Reggie’s attack. Since Jet had taken stab wounds meant for me. Since Lark’s skull had met the business end of a metal bar and somehow didn’t crack.

My nightmare had finally, truly ended.

“How’s our patient?” Beckett crossed to where Jet lay on his dog bed, the plastic cone around his neck making him look both pitiful and ridiculous.

“That cone is driving him insane.” I set down the knife I’d been using to prep vegetables, wiping my hands on the dish towel. “But the vet said two more weeks minimum.”

Jet’s tail thumped weakly against his bed at Beckett’s approach. The German shepherd tried to stand, but I moved quickly, my palm gentle on his side.

“Easy, boy. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Never been his strong suit.” Beckett knelt beside us, fingers gentle on Jet’s head. “Always has to be in motion.”

“How’s Lark?” We’d all been taking turns checking on her.

He chuckled. “At this point, I think she just wants to be left alone and for everyone to stop hovering.”

It was a miracle she was alive with no permanent damage. Right now, she had a little light sensitivity, but she was getting around on her own and the doctors felt like she would be back to full speed soon.

It looked like we all would. We were all moving forward. Putting Reggie completely behind us.

Which was why I’d wanted to give Beckett a redo of his birthday dinner.

“You didn’t have to do all this again.”

“Yes, I did.” I returned to chopping carrots, keeping my tone light. “Your actual birthday got inadvertently hijacked by a psychopath. You deserve a proper celebration. The steaks are marinating. Should be ready to grill in about an hour.”

His body pressed against my back, arms caging me against the cool refrigerator door. “Good. Then we have time.”

“I need to finish?—”

“Dinner can wait.” His breath stirred the hair at my nape, sending shivers down my spine. “Just…let me hold you for a minute.”

I melted backward, letting his solid warmth encompass me. My fingers found his forearms where they crossed over my stomach, tracing the corded muscle there. We stood suspended, swaying slightly, while Jet watched from his bed with those patient brown eyes that had seen too much these past days.

“I keep replaying it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “If I’d been five minutes later. If Jet hadn’t kept moving toward those woods, despite being injured. If Reggie had gotten one clean strike?—”

“But he didn’t.” I turned in the circle of his arms, palms framing his face, feeling the stubble against my skin. “You found me. Jet led you straight to me. We survived.”

“Yes. Survival is always the most important thing.” We stood there in silence for a moment, both of us taking in that we were still alive. That things could’ve easily gone so much worse, but they didn’t.

“First rule of survival?” I finally asked, knowing he’d get the reference since it was from a plaque that hung in the Warrior Security office.

“Don’t die.” His arms tightened around me. “Lark could have died. Jet almost bled out in those woods. You?—”

“But they didn’t. I didn’t.” I rose on my toes, pressing my lips to his, soft but insistent. “Everyone’s healing. Reggie’s facing attempted murder charges. It’s over, Beckett. We won.”

He studied my face with that tactical assessment, cataloging every detail. “And you’ve decided to stay.”

Not a question, but I answered anyway. “Lark offered me a permanent position. PR work, social media management, plus helping train the anxious dogs.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

My pulse skittered. “I know.”

His thumb traced my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “Is it too soon to talk about finding a place together? My apartment in town is cramped, but we could look for something bigger. Something that belongs to both of us.”

I let my gaze drift around the cabin. These weeks had transformed it from shelter to home. My thrift-store scarf still filtered light through the window. Wildflowers Beckett had picked yesterday bloomed in a mason jar. Jet’s toys created an obstacle course across the floor.

“I love this cabin,” I admitted. “It’s tiny, but it’s…ours. Where we began. But I know it’s basically a studio. Not practical for two people long-term.”

“But…” His strategic mind was already working as he surveyed the space. He moved to the window, analyzing the structure with fresh perspective. “The bones are solid. Good foundation. We could expand.”

“Expand?”

“Add a bedroom. Enlarge the bathroom. The Warrior Security and Resting Warrior crews would help. Between all of us, we could probably frame it out in a weekend.”

“You’d do that? Transform this place?”

He turned back, and the raw want in his eyes made my knees liquid.

“I’d do a hell of a lot more if it meant you’d stay.

I love you.” The words rumbled through his chest. “Should have said it days ago, but I didn’t want you to think it was some knee-jerk reaction from everything that happened. I love you, Audra Cartland.”

I could swear that the whole world stopped spinning. I pulled back to meet his eyes. “Even with all the chaos I brought?”

“Maybe because of it. You made me want things I’d written off.”

“What things?”

“This. Coming home to someone. Planning futures. Weekend renovations.” His palm cupped my face with reverence. “Living instead of just surviving.”

“I love you too.” The words flowed easier than expected. “I love your steadiness. Your strength. The way you guard everyone around you. The way you protected me when I couldn’t protect myself.”

“You were never weak. You just needed backup.”

“Well, now I have an entire squad.”

“For as long as you want us.”

He kissed me then, deep and consuming, until I forgot about marinating steaks and baking potatoes, forgot everything except his mouth on mine and the hard press of his body.

“The steaks,” I gasped when we broke apart, my lips swollen and tingling.

“Later.” His fingers were already working my shirt buttons with tactical precision. “Much later.”

Instead of answering, I pulled my shirt off completely, letting it fall. His pupils dilated, swallowing the gray of his irises. He lifted me onto the kitchen table, plates sliding dangerously. I caught the wine bottle just before it tipped.

“We’re going to break everything.”

“Don’t care.” His mouth found my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot where neck met shoulder, and I forgot why I’d been protesting.

His hands were everywhere—unclasping my bra with one hand while the other palmed my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaked. I arched into his touch, my fingers fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Take me to the bed,” I managed.

He carried me the short distance, my legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth never leaving my skin. We fell onto the mattress together, a tangle of desperate hands and heated kisses. He stripped my jeans down my legs, taking my panties with them, then stood back to look at me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, yanking his own clothes off with considerably less finesse than he’d shown with mine.

Then he was on me, skin to skin, and I gasped at the contact. His weight pressed me into the mattress just right, grounding me in the moment. He traced a path down my throat with his mouth, between my breasts, taking his time with each nipple until I was writhing beneath him.

“Beckett, please?—”

“Patience.” His tongue circled my navel. “We have time now. All the time in the world.”

He was right. No one was hunting us. No one was coming. We were safe. Free. Home.

His mouth moved lower, and my hands fisted in his hair as he settled between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue made me cry out, hips bucking up involuntarily. He held me steady, one arm across my hips, while he took me apart with his mouth.

He knew exactly what I needed—alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on my clit, adding his fingers when I was already trembling on the edge. Two fingers curling inside me while his tongue worked magic, and I shattered, his name breaking from my lips in a sob.

He kissed his way back up my body while I was still shaking, entering me in one smooth thrust that made us both groan. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to mine, letting me adjust to the fullness of him inside me.

“I love you,” he said again, starting to move with devastating slowness. “God, Audra, I love you so much.”

“Show me.”

And he did. Every thrust deliberate and deep, hitting that perfect spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. His thumb found my still-sensitive clit, circling in time with his movements, and I could feel another orgasm building impossibly fast.

“That’s it,” he murmured against my ear. “Let go for me. Let me feel you come around my cock.”

His words pushed me over, and I clenched around him, my nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He followed me over, my name on his lips as he buried himself deep and came hard, his whole body shuddering above me.

We lay tangled together afterward, my head on his sweat-dampened chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my spine. Through the window, stars were beginning to pierce the darkening sky.

“Shit,” I said suddenly, remembering. “Dinner. The potatoes are going to be way overdone.”

“I don’t care. Just…stay here for another minute.”

I settled back against him, content to let the world wait. “Happy birthday, Beckett.”

“Best one I’ve ever had.” He tightened his arms around me. “And next year will be even better because we’ll celebrate it again together.”

I kissed his shoulder. “Every year.”

And there in our tiny cabin, with our injured hero dog snoring in his cone and food waiting for us in the kitchen, we held each other and planned forever.

The road here had been brutal—fourteen months of terror, near-death, and loss. But somehow, we’d found each other in the wreckage.

It wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was—but it was real and it was ours.

That was more than enough. It was everything.